


The King is dead, long live the Prince

by Misaratis



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), BAMF Merlin (Merlin), Confusion, Deus Ex Merlin's magic, Eventual Merlin/Arthur, If I choose to continue this, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Merlin's Magic Revealed (Merlin), Temporary Character Death, They both think they're having two very different conversations, Time Travel, for now it's a one shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:13:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27161647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misaratis/pseuds/Misaratis
Summary: After the battle of Camlann, and the days long trek to reach the isle of the blessed, Arthur, though delirious, has had a chance to come to terms with his death. What he didn't count on was Merlin's magic. Because Merlin and his magic had the unique ability to create more problems than they solve, and still somehow save the day.Although save the day, in this context, is a relative term.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 195





	The King is dead, long live the Prince

**Author's Note:**

> I suppose it could be said this is a WIP. it's been floating on my PC for a while, so I decided why not post it. I've got a bunch of half finished follow up scenes, that might see posting at some point. But that could be a while away, so I fugure why not at least get this out here, insted of letting it gather dust on my drive. Enjoy!

Arthur felt cold and numb. It was from the loss of blood, he knew. From his wound, the days of painful travel to reach the Isle of the Blessed, the damp moss surrounding the lake under him. And the icy realization that the closest friend he had ever known, closer still than even his wife, had been magic all along.

And the idiot had never thought to tell him.

Merlin was crying, sobbing quite messily really, making Arthur want to reach out and wipe away the tears. However his limbs were dead weight, too heavy to lift. All he could manage was lightly squeezing the hand Merlin used to crush Arthur's own against that ridiculous neckerchief. Feeling suddenly desperate, Arthur poured the last of his quickly fading strength into his voice and eyes, staring into Merlin's, willing the man to hear, to listen. All his grief, the feeling of betrayal, the deep, endless trust and love he tried to communicate in two, broken words. "Thank you." he breathed, barely audible. Arthur might have wondered if Merlin had even heard him, if not for the utterly heartbroken look that crossed his face.

It was all Arthur could manage, but it was enough. It had to be enough, because Arthur knew that he did not have anything more left in him.

The last thing he felt was not the cold, it was the guttural scream that ripped through the air. Merlin's anguish swirled with his magic, tearing through the land like dragon's fire. Deep as the sea, hot as the sun, more painful than any wound to the flesh could hope to be.

Merlin's magic, much like the man himself, existed not for him, but for those to whom he chose to give his heart.

***

Wakefulness was slow to come. But it was soft, and warm, and smelled like home. Arthur wondered if this is what the afterlife was like.

He stretched lazily, feeling a phantom pain in his side, lingering from his mortal wound. A stray hope flit through his mind, of possibly getting to see the shade of his mother, or even his father too, again. Would that be too much to ask for, to share his afterlife with his family?

Opening gritty eyes, Arthur found the canopy of his bed, dressed in Pendragon red, above him. It was not surprising that his Heaven would be here in the castle, his home, at the heart of his Kingdom. Outside was a peaceful night, cloudless, affording a brilliant view of the stars and the bright, full moon. The light of it made the white stones in the castle courtyard shine silver.

Arthur tossed off the covers, his toes curling at the assault of cold air. Just as his mind was getting around to wondering what he might do in this afterlife, and why his stomach was clenching like it was hungry -were people meant to be hungry after they had died?- the door to his chambers flew open.

Merlin was standing there, flushed and panting with bright, worried eyes and wild curls framing his face. Seeing him chased away all other thoughts, leaving Arthur suddenly, painfully, hollow. The cold of his death settled over him again like a frigid hand on his heart, one that, somewhere deep in the back of his mind, he realized was beating again.

Hands trembling, tongue feeling like lead in his mouth, he asked "Merlin?" Tears traitorously stung his eyes, Arthur tried to blink them back. What was Merlin doing here? _How_ was he here?

"Arthur." Merlin answered breathlessly. His eyes, blue as they ever were, skirted all over Arthur, around the room, before returning to him. He was looking for something, and apparently failed in finding it. Merlin's mouth turned downward and he swallowed once, eyebrows creasing together. "Are... are you alright Sire?" he asked with a voice made up of apprehension and tender care.

Arthur brought a hand to his wound, feeling nothing but smooth skin under his night linens. The pain was fading too, as if his body was shaking off the last of a half remembered dream. "I think so." Merlin was still breathing laboriously. "Did you run all the way here?"

Merlin blinked, confusion written all over his face. "Yes." he said slowly, chewing on the word. "I felt- I had to make sure you were okay." He stepped fully into the room and closed the heavy door softly behind him. "You are... alright?"

Something like hope bloomed in Arthur's chest, he had always been unbelievably lucky. Or rather, he had been lucky to have Merlin performing secret acts of sorcery to save his life. "Am I alive?" he whispered, in part to Merlin, in part to himself. He almost did not dare consider it, had Merlin somehow gotten him to the Isle? Had he simply passed out? Had one of the Gods suddenly decided to spare him? Had that last, bone shaking burst of magic he had felt somehow healed him?

Merlin looked even more confused, but to his credit he took it in stride, like he did everything. "Last I saw?"

Arthur stood, a touch too abruptly if the slight vertigo was anything to judge by, and crossed the room, bringing Merlin in for a crushing hug. Merlin flinched, but brought his hands up to pat Arthur's back hesitantly all the same. "Thank you." Arthur choked out again, the words so changed from when he had said them last, what felt like just a moment ago, but still important to have said. Then the tears finally forced themselves from him, and Arthur indulged in a rare moment of vulnerability. Even a King could afford himself that much on occasion. "How?" he breathed against Merlin's neck.

"How?" Merlin echoed, sounding strangely distant. "How what?"

Arthur drew away enough to look the man in the eyes in the dim light of the moon, keeping his hands on Merlin's shoulders, needing some point of contact. Needing to feel the warmth of another person under his fingers. He was happy it was Merlin, because he always brought with him a humming crackle of magic wherever he went, his very self singing with _life_. Arthur felt just a little witless for never noticing before. "How did you save me?" he asked, intending to wait for an answer but once he started with one question he could not stop the tumble of words as they came. "How long have I been asleep? Where's Gwen? How many survived Camlann? How did we get back to the Castle?"

Merlin blinked rapidly, something like fear rising in his eyes. It was hard to discern anything but the broadest emotions in the dark. He stuttered out a concerned "Pardon?"

Arthur rolled his eyes, trying not to feel too impatient, Merlin did save his life for the- likely far too many times to count. "Don't be obtuse." he said, reveling in familiar banter. "How did you save me?"

Merlin looked uncomfortable with Arthur's hands still on his shoulders, so he let them drop. Instead he motioned for Merlin to join him at the table as he drew a chair out and sat. "I don't understand Arthur." Merlin said. Then the hesitancy bled from his face, a somewhat passive mask in its place. Only now Arthur could recognize the preamble to another lie for what it was. He distantly wondered how many times Merlin had so effortlessly deceived him before.

"Actually, never mind." He said, inching backwards towards the door. "It's the middle of the night, I shouldn't have disturbed you. I'll just-"

" _Enough_ ." Arthur interrupted harshly, more so than intended, making Merlin freeze. He gestured to the chair, again, with all the authority of a King. " _Sit_ , Merlin." he insisted, leaving no room for argument. Seeing the panicked look on Merlin's face he eased his features, adding a soft, yet no less authoritative "Please."

Merlin sat, looking as though he was trying his best to place as little of his weight as possible on the chair. Arthur pressed his lips into a thin line at the sight of it, feeling a small burst of anger. If not for his fatigue, held over from the hard trek to the isle and waking while the moon was still high in sky, his temper may have been higher. And despite his deep relief and happiness to be alive, he had not come this far to accept any more half truths. "Do not lie to me Merlin. You can't tell me I've hit my head and think I'll brush off whatever magic you used as imagination." Merlin's eyes widened in panic. It hurt Arthur just a bit, the thought that after everything they'd said and talked about over the last days, and the years of friendship before that, still Merlin felt as though he could not trust him with this. After both Mordred and Morgana's betrayal- although, now that Arthur thought about it, the two of them were quite possibly why Merlin felt Arthur might still react badly. As King, he’d never made any attempt to improve upon the reign of his father, in all things concerning magic.

Or perhaps Merlin hadn't understood the sincerity of what Arthur thought were his last words. In any case, he knew that he would have to make amends now.

Peering at Merlin in the dark wee hours before dawn, the fight left Arthur. He was tired, he legitimately believed he'd been dead, and had only just come to accept how powerful Merlin truly was. And how helpless he might have been all those years if not for his ever loyal servant at his side. "You don't have to be afraid, just tell me what happened. The whole of it." His eyes went around the dark room for the sake of looking at something other than the blatant fear on Merlin's face. It was tidier than he remembered leaving it, having exited in a flurry of war preparations to the ringing of Camelot's warning bells. He must have slept through his recovery for at least a day, if Merlin had time to clean his chambers this well. "And light a candle too. Or better yet, a fire." He didn't really consider keeping Merlin on as a mere servant anymore, surely he deserved some sort of proper title, but Arthur yearned for the normalcy of ordering him about a bit.

Part of him hoped Merlin might light it with magic, if only to assure himself that he hadn't dreamt it all. But he didn't. Merlin lifted himself from the chair by its arms on quivering hands and walked to the hearth, eyes on the floor. He stoked the fire silently, a silence Arthur was not particularly keen on breaking. Underlit by the gentle flames, slowly gnawing their way across four logs, carefully stacked to allow the bark to catch first, Merlin's eyes look golden. Like molten steel, ready to be poured.

Merlin turned to him, his expression guarded, but his jaw was set firmly and with determination. "So you know." His tone wasn't light, or happy, or joking, or anything like his voice usually was. It was tight, and kept carefully bare of emotion.

Arthur couldn't help it, he laughed softly. "Of course." Merlin drew his head back, offence lining his expression. Of the laughter or the frank statement, Arthur could not be sure. "I'd have to be a fool to ignore it now." He expected Merlin to laugh too, wanted him to laugh even. To say something like, 'You're not a fool, dollophead.' like he always did. But Merlin did not, he just kept staring resolutely from his crouch by the fire.

Arthur sighed. "Will you sit back down already, rather than crouch on the floor like a child. I'm not about to lop your head off or burn you at the pyre." The words left an unexpectedly sour taste in his mouth, as he realized that Merlin had likely spent most, if not all, of his days in Camelot believing such a fate was a distinct possibility.

"You won't turn me in?"

Arthur wanted to laugh again, thinking incredulously to himself, whoever to? He was King, who besides himself would have any authority over Merlin's life? Instead he said "No." firmly. He held Merlin's intense gaze for a long moment, hoping that he had finally gotten it through his servant's thick head that he was not in any danger. They had forgiveness from each other.

Granted, Arthur had been slowly dying so perhaps at the time Merlin felt like he had nothing to lose. But they still had forgiveness.

All of a sudden, like a puppet that had its strings cut, Merlin deflated. He collapsed down, falling backwards with his arse on the floor, letting his back settle against the wall facing Arthur. He sprawled his long, gangly legs out in front of him, staring hard between them. The fire, on its way to roaring now, lit up his whole left side and, by contrast, tossed deep shadows across the rest. It smoothed over the small laugh lines that had started to grow around his eyes and mouth, making him look several years younger than he was. "I was born with it. Magic." Merlin's attention flickered to Arthur's face before going back to the floor.

Arthur rolled his eyes, valiantly resisting the urge to tell Merlin that he already knew, that, obviously, Merlin had already told him all this. He would however graciously allow Merlin to say whatever he felt needed saying, even if that meant repeating himself. Whoever said he couldn't be patient when he needed to be obviously didn't know King Arthur. After all, he had not been entirely in his right mind, and he had no doubt that some of the finer details of Merlin's abilities were lost on him, so he was keen to hear it all again.

"You have to understand Arthur, I've never tried to hurt you or anyone. Well, I have hurt some people- but only to protect Camelot!" He raised his head sharply, eyes imploring. "To protect _you_."

"You've been nothing but loyal." Arthur agreed, gesturing for Merlin to continue.

Merlin blinked owlishly, but swallowed down his emotions and said "I wanted to tell you so many times. Believe me, it's been killing me to keep it all a secret." Questionable choice of words, Arthur thought, though he didn't remark on it. "I suppose I haven't kept it a complete secret, there are some people that know, but they're not part of it. None of it's their fault." he hastened to add.

"Which part, the bit about lying to me or saving my life?" Arthur meant it in jest, mostly.

Merlin fiddled with his long fingers, nails and skin shining in the firelight. "I really have wanted to tell you." he said softly, forlornly even. "I didn't mean to become your servant... or your friend." He whispered the last words, almost as if it was somehow shameful to say.

"A good thing you did. I'd have been dead many times over if not for you." That Arthur did mean, the memory of the chill at death's door hanging over him. He had never felt quite so cold in all his life. The fire was helping, filling the room with more and more warmth.

For that reason, and to a certain extent to level them, Arthur joined Merlin by the hearth. He sat on the other side, back against the wall as well, the whole of his right side absorbing the pleasant heat. "So..." Merlin sounded cautiously hopeful "you believe me?"

"Of course. Like you'd be capable of betraying me." Unlike Mordred.

"Just like that?"

Arthur turned to Merlin, mock seriousness on his face. "What, did you want to be sentenced to death only for me to have a sudden change at heart at the last moment or some such dramatic nonsense? I _can_ arrange that, if you'd like."

"No Sire." Merlin said quickly, leaning back and looking stricken.

"You're such a _girl_." Arthur made a valiant attempt to keep himself from staring at Merlin too intensely, seeing as the man still seemed on edge. Which was perfectly understandable.

Arthur had a great deal he wanted to say and know, yet there was something about the calm of night after such a bloody few days, on the heels of a trying few years, that made him want to stop and enjoy the relative peace, if only for a moment. Outside, the sky turned from a velvety black to the deep indigo of predawn. Eventually Merlin sucked in a deep breath, letting it out as a sigh. "What happens now, then?"

"Now," Arthur started, unsure of how to continue. Yes, he'd had vague plans on repealing the ban on magic, trying to undo much of what his father had stood for. But the methodical disassembly of a King's long reign was no simple task, and Arthur didn't intend to throw everything his father did to the wind. "Now, we set to work." He looked over to Merlin, who was watching him with a mixture of apprehension and rapt attention. "I don't suppose you'd be willing to be made Court Sorcerer?" The words felt foreign on his tongue.

Merlin laughed then, finally. Even though it was a little too desperate, slightly too high a pitch to be exactly normal, Arthur was surprised by how happy it made him feel. The smile on Merlin's face was worth a thousand on anyone else's. "Naturally. Why didn't I think of that."

"I'm serious. As I've understood it, it used to be quite an esteemed title."

Snickering, and to the great relief of Arthur quickly returning to his old self, Merlin said "I suppose there's a ceremonial robe and everything?"

Arthur waved him off "Let Dragoon have the robe. I'll allow you to keep that ugly scarf of yours." Merlin gave a short jerk, startled. Arthur bobbed his head in response, as way of acknowledging that, yes, he remembered that too.

The memory of Merlin telling him he wouldn't be joining them at Camlann stuck out in Arthur's mind. He could not help but think, now, how much easier it would have all been if he could have just included Merlin in the war talks from the start. Instead of forcing him to spend his energy inventing a false persona for himself as an old wizard, he could have been openly helping all along.

"In all seriousness though. We do have quite a bit to do ahead of us. Not just the aftermath of Camlann, but I'll need to revise the laws on magic and the ban. I can't simply repeal all of them without warning." Arthur said pensively, thinking out loud, as he did often with Merlin. This time he knew that what Merlin had to say was not just the opinion of a friend and hapless servant, but advice from a place of knowledge. He resigned himself to listening closely to what Merlin would have to tell him, in this as well as in the future. "I expect there will be a fair few people with magic that will still want revenge for the Purge, and will jump at the chance of a new legalization of it in Camelot. And neither will the people be welcoming, all of a sudden, I think. Not after what they've seen with Morgana and Mordred's betrayal and the attack of the dragon. And everything else that's happened in between. The people, those with and without magic alike, will have to be gently eased into the transition, as will the Court and other Kingdoms. But I'd like to hear more of this Albion you spoke of, before I start rewriting laws." Arthur looked over to Merlin expectantly. But Merlin was looking at him strangely, eyes blown wide with something resembling horror. Or shock, or both. "I asked you a question, Merlin. Do try not to look so stupid."

"Arthur,” Merlin said, slowly and deliberately, as if speaking to a simpleton “what are you talking about?"

"Repealing the ban. Honestly, keep up Merlin."

Blinking incredulously, Merlin shook his head. "The King would never allow it."

"The King is sitting right here." Arthur snorted "And I can do whatever I want."

Merlin blinked again, now with some alarm. "And by the King, you mean... yourself?" he asked, still in that slow way. It was starting to irritate Arthur.

"Are you daft Merlin? I had half a mind to think your utter incompetence was an act to keep your magic secret. Who would I possibly mean besides myself?"

"Ah." was all he said to that. Deep contemplation furrowed his brow and turned his eyes into two small, wary slits. "Answer me this, how old are you?"

"How much of an idiot-"

"Just humor me." Merlin said, with no humor at all. "Please."

Arthur sighed heavily, as though this was a great inconvenience that he granted only through his inexhaustible magnanimity. "Twenty-nine."

"Right." Merlin said frankly. "Alright. I knew this was too good to be true."

"What nonsense are you on about now?"

It seemed that Merlin wasn't listening to him. He stood abruptly, beginning to pace in front of the fire. "I mean, of course it was. Why would I ever just wake up in the middle of the night to Arthur, _Arthur_ , knowing about me? And being fine with it!"

"Merlin, would you shut up and explain?" Merlin stopped in his tracks, mouth pinched in a tight line.

"I don't know how Sire."

"Oh for the love of-" Arthur made an aborted growl. "For supposedly being the most powerful sorcerer in the Five Kingdoms you are exceptionally stupid. Sit down and explain. I am your King, I shouldn't have to ask so many times."

Merlin slumped down obediently, which was a minor miracle in and of itself, sitting cross legged in front of Arthur. "I-" he started haltingly, eyes burning holes into Arthur's. "I woke up, during the night. There was some kind of..." he trailed off, looking for the words, his right hand circling the air in a useless gesture "ripple, I suppose. No that's not quite right. It was like if a ripple could have it's own ripples, or if-"

"Get to the _point_ , Merlin." Arthur insisted, a touch rougher than he intended.

"Ah, yes, of course. Well, the... whatever it was, it woke me in the night." His eyes glanced off towards the window, where half the sky was brightening into a stunning array of red hues. "It was magic, like nothing I've ever seen before. I ran straight here, I thought something might have happened to you. And, well... what's the last thing you remember?"

Arthur rubbed a tired hand over his face, lacking the energy to fight Merlin on his confounding line of questioning. "We were at the lake. And I was dying." Arthur leaned his head against the fire-warm stone behind him, closing his eyes to the memories. The tangy smell of his own dried blood still clung to him, the fatigue from traveling weighing him down more than any armour ever could. "You did something." They'd both made messes of themselves, Merlin had been a sobbing wreck, not that Arthur blamed him. "I can't recall what words you said, if they were words at all, but you did something. I assume whatever spell you cast was what healed me." Arthur finished, looking back to Merlin.

"But that's just it, I didn't heal you."

"Then how am I still here?" Arthur asked incredulously.

"I think..." Merlin broke off, chewing the inside of his cheek nervously "I think... I sent you back."

"Back." Arthur echoed, the word demanding extrapolation.

Merlin's hands twisted over themselves. "Back, as in, back in time."

"Right." Arthur said. "If I ever had any reasons to doubt your idiocy all these years, you have soundly assuaged them."

"I'm serious Arthur! I didn't know it was possible, but- but yesterday you were twenty-two! Now you say you're six years older. You still look twenty-two though, but how else can you explain that? I don't even know how long you've known about my magic! Or how-" he stopped haltingly, eyes going wide and fearful "or how long you've been King."

The words bore heavy implications, implications Arthur was vastly unequipped and unwilling to so much as contemplate. "Speak the truth Merlin." he said in a warning tone. Not that he believed that Merlin had any reason to lie to him anymore, but more because of the sheer impossibility of what he was hearing.

Merlin swallowed, his hands kept fidgeting. "It's the twenty-fifth year of Uther's reign, you're still Prince, and, and as far as I know, you've never known about my magic."

"Right." Arthur said again, for he did not know what else could be said in that moment. "Is there a way back?" he asked hollowly, more for propriety's sake than anything else. He feared he already knew the answer.

"I don't even know how I could have done it." Merlin answered, staring at him with wide concerned eyes. 

"That's what I thought." Arthur rasped through a suddenly dry and painfully constricted throat. He faced Merlin fully and though the light was still too dim to make much out, now that he knew what to look for he could properly see the differences. See how young Merlin looked. There was a thin, almost invisible, scar that ran down one side of his jaw that he'd gotten from falling in the woods on a hunting trip years ago. It was gone now. Along with the slight smattering of barely there freckles he accumulated through the years. The laugh lines that had grown at his eyes and mouth had been smoothed over, leaving him looking unlike himself.

All of a sudden, Arthur felt very isolated. He hadn't felt alone at his death, for that was what it must have been, as he'd had Merlin, his Merlin, with him. He knew he was leaving people behind, but they were capable, and he had every faith in them. He knew Camelot was in good hands, with a good Queen-

By the Gods, he wasn't even married to Guinevere anymore. Or yet. A new wave of old exhaustion hit him.

"Arthur?" Merlin asked tentatively, as if speaking too loudly might shatter him.

That may be true, Arthur felt oddly fragile. "Yes Merlin?" Part of him wanted to send Merlin away, but then he'd be even more alone, and he wasn't sure he could take that right then.

"Are you alright?"

Arthur swallowed, waiting a long moment before answering honestly "No." His voice sounded as hollow as he felt.

"Is there anything I can do?"

"Short of sending me back? No." Then again what would Merlin be sending him back to?

Merlin smoothed his hands over his trousers before returning them to his lap, his long fingers entwining delicately. The firelight flicked over his skin and hair warmly. Arthur lost himself in it, staring idly at the hair that was only just long enough to curl softly around his face. Eventually, Merlin took a shaky breath and met Arthur's eyes. "Was I with you? In the end?"

Arthus found he didn't want to see whatever emotion was making Merlin's eyes glaze, so he turned to the window. The reds had bled their color, leaving the sky a pale lavender. "You were."

Mercifully, Merlin dropped his gaze. "I'm sorry Arthur."

"Sorry? Whatever for?"

Merlin's fingers looped around each other. "It's my responsibility to keep you alive. And you died."

Arthur shook his head. "It couldn't be helped. And besides" he said, his voice distant to even himself "I'm here now."


End file.
